


The Other Road

by fresne



Category: The Epic of Gilgamesh
Genre: Chromatic Yuletide, Multi, Yuletide 2020, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28219023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fresne/pseuds/fresne
Summary: When the story of Gilgamesh and Enkidu's journey to the great cedar forest was told in later years, the story was always told as if it were just great Gilgamesh and his faithful Enkidu crossing the seven mountain ranges alone, but that was not how it was at all. There were fifty men and women of Uruk, and his lover's sisters besides.Enkidu could not have said why he did what he did in the great forest. He knew Gilgamesh acted so that he might live forever. Enkidu would have wished for the story to be that Gilgamesh survived the curse of the gods and Enkidu died, but he was not any part god, and could not command how the narrative would be told.
Relationships: Enkidu/Gilgamesh (Mesopotamian Mythology), Enkidu/Original Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	1. The Great Cedar Forest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Kings_Scribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Kings_Scribe/gifts).



> I hope this is what you were looking for from an AU that reverses which one of them died.

When the story of Gilgamesh and Enkidu's journey to the great cedar forest was told in later years, the story was always told as if it were just great Gilgamesh and his faithful Enkidu crossing the seven mountain ranges alone, but that was not how it was at all.

Enkidu had just come to the city of Uruk. Full of rage and determination to end Gilgamesh's tyranny over his people, and for all of Enkidu's strength, he was laid out defeated under Gilgamesh. Defeated and swept up by a man with an all encompassing heart. Gilgamesh, who welcomed Enkidu with an outstretched hand, a loving embrace, the kiss of love, and a place by his side in all ways. 

Enkidu, a wildman from the wide plains of the river valley, who had never so much as eaten a piece of bread until Gilgamesh placed it honey soaked between his lips. Who had never so much as sipped a cup of wine until Gilgamesh placed it in his hand. Who had never laid himself down on a bed much less a private room until Gilgamesh pressed him down into the royal sheets to make love when it suited them, and it suited them often. Who had never imagined a love so all consuming until Gilgamesh lit the fire of it in his breast.

Ninsun, Gilgamesh's great mother, the goddess of the wild cow in the enclosure, welcomed him. She called him her son. Offered him cheese from her own plate. But her daughters turned their faces from him. Called him their brother's slave and concubine. Reminded him that Gilgamesh was king and must one day take up a queen for his wife, and put Enkidu aside. 

En-me-barage-si and Ma-tur couldn't have been more different, but they seemed to Enkidu to be united in pride. In what they expected of their future. To become the wives of great lords. To be queens. To have a place at a seat of power. To be respected.

The many years later, Enkidu smiled sadly at the child of summer that he'd been. 

How he remembered that morning when Gilgamesh rose from their bed and paced the wide room full of that vital energy that filled every part of him. How Enkidu had sat up just to watch his lord. His lover. Gilgamesh said, "I want to be remembered forever. I want to do something that will be remembered for all time." He snapped his fingers. "Let's go to the great cedar forest and defeat Humbaba."

Enkidu tried to talk Gilgamesh out of it. Humbaba was dangerous. A giant. Divinely gifted by Enlil with seven deadly auras. Who had a dragon's breath and claws for feet and hands. But what Gilgamesh wanted, he must have. 

Even years later, Enkidu remembered thinking, "Burn less brightly, love. Leave sons to their fathers. Daughters to their mothers. Be a shepherd to Uruk." But Gilgamesh was like a forest fire. His crest was the wild bull and it was in his heart to ever charge forward.

At least he listened to Enkidu's advice to get the blessing of Utu, his patron god of the sun. 

At least he did that, and the great god Utu came when Gilgamesh called. How could he not when such a divinely noble king called his name? Utu told him that he'd been given all the gifts the gods could give. But Gilgamesh knelt before the god and painted a horrible picture of a city full of corpses. Of everyone dying and dead. He spoke of the rivers as full of the dead. He wept as he spoke, full of passionate vision until Enkidu could see what he saw. Those tears seemed golden in Utu's light. All Gilgamesh asked was that he pass into legend through his deeds, because everything in this life passes away except the fame of great works.

Enkidu felt a chill when his lover said that, but what he could say. Gilgamesh was not wrong.

Utu granted Gilgamesh's wish and gave him seven monstrous guides. The eldest, a lion-eagle. The second, a great crimson snake. The third, a dragon. The fourth was made of fire. The fifth, a great golden snake. The sixth was like a flood. The seventh was made of lightning. 

Enkidu had grown up in the wilderness. He'd run with wild creatures, but even he trembled to see such monstrous beings. Gilgamesh didn't blanch at all. He smiled at the monsters that were charged with guiding them over the seven mountains to the great cedar forest. 

Even that wasn't enough. Gilgamesh called on every household in the city with an unmarried man to come with them. He stood in the marketplace and spoke about the adventure that awaited them in the great cedar forest. How everyone who went there would be famous forever. That they would establish the power of the god Utu and the city of Uruk when they went to the forest and brought back a wealth of trees. How the great walls of the city would be unbreakable and stand for all time. How their families would nestle safely inside those walls.

Enkidu could see the light of Gilgamesh's words like a taper sparking flames in the hearts of the men of Uruk. Fifty sons of the city all told joined them.

Not just sons of the city went.

Servants to cook the meals and to see to the animals. Priestesses of Ishtar, the great goddess of love and war and Utu's sister besides, to bless the nights of the journey with sex and songs of battle. 

Gilgamesh sweetly kissed Enkidu and assured him that he would seek no one but himself for the deeds that made Ishtar glad.

And even beyond all of these, Gilgamesh brought his own sisters on the journey.

First, Gilgamesh went to his older sister, En-me-barage-si, who stood proud and tall with her goddess mother's height and great beauty. Gilgamesh said, "Sister, come with us. Bring your bridal clothing." He took her hands and said, "I want you dressed like a queen for the glory of Uruk and yourself on this adventure. You'll take that glory when you go to your bridal bed, a great queen." 

Enkidu blurted out. "Gilgamesh, are you sure this is wise? This won't be an easy journey. I did it when I followed the great herds of buffalo on their migration, but I was a wildman then and could run as fast as a gazelle." 

He would have added that Gilgamesh had draped his body in fine linen with his own hands, and softened Enkidu, but En-me-barage-si lifted her chin and said, "You're a wildman still. You don't even know your mother's name. Whatever you can do, I, who am two parts god and but one part mortal, can do even more."

Later when Enkidu expressed his dismay, Gilgamesh embraced him and said, "You could not have said anything more perfect. I don't know if she would have agreed to go if you hadn't said what you did." Enkidu wanted to ask why Gilgamesh wanted En-me-barage-si, who was a woman of the city and not the wilderness, to go with them, but was swept up by the flood that was Gilgamesh. 

En-me-barage-si packed her finest woven cloth and jewelry so delicate it trembled like leaves around the cone of incense in her crown of woven hair. On the day they set out, she sat on the back of a curried white horse exactly like a bride on her way to her wedding feast. 

Next Gilgamesh went to his younger sister, Ma-tur, who was little more than a girl and yet proud to have her goddess mother's strength, and cared little for beauty of which she had only youth. Gilgamesh said, "I want you to come with us dressed like Ishtar herself ready for war."

Enkidu blurted out, "Gilgamesh, are you sure that she should go? How can all three of you go to face Humbaba?" 

He wanted to add that it would break their mother's heart if she lost all three of her children to death, but Ma-tur scowled at him and said, "I'm not afraid of Humbaba or anything. I've got the blood of the gods in my veins." 

Later when Enkidu expressed his dismay, Gilgamesh embraced him and said, "What you said was perfect. I don't know if she'd have agreed to leave mother by herself if you hadn't." 

Gilgamesh ordered that fresh armor like Ishtar's be made for Ma-tur. Armor that cupped each breast and made much of Ma-tur's youthful waist. On the day they set out, she sat on the back of a curried black horse looking exactly like a young goddess on her way to war.

While as to Enkidu, Gilgamesh dressed him in leather and bronze armor with his own hands and gave him a horse to ride, for all Enkidu was more comfortable walking. 

So into the mountains they went. A great caravan of men and women on horseback. The carts that would be filled with the results of their assured success followed more slowly behind. 

Their monstrous guides urged them on through the mountains. How the lion-eagle wanted to race. How Gilgamesh was eager to reach the great cedar forest. His vision of their glory was a fire in everyone's belly. But these were sons and daughters of a great city and not hardened for the wild.

Enkidu noticed En-me-barage-si moving stiffly as she slid off her mount the night they reached the first mountain pass, and offered her bear fat to rub on her thighs. He might have suggested that they lie down together. He said, "It's out of love for your brother that I'm offering this salve." He didn't say that there was no love lost between them. He didn't need to.

He went to Gilgamesh afterwards, who comforted him that she would grow used to the road. That she would grow to love Enkidu as Gilgamesh did. Giddy, Enkidu drank kisses from Gilgamesh's lips there under the great wheel of heaven. Enkidu dared hope that this was the reason Gilgamesh had invited his sisters on such a dangerous adventure.

They made love in the sweet grass guarded by the monstrous guide of lightning, who had opened the road and created the first mountain pass, and would remain to keep it open from that time forward. Enkidu wished that the journey would never end. 

But one by one, the monstrous guides opened a pass for them across the mountains and remained behind.

The sons and daughters of Uruk began to whisper among themselves. They'd thought the monstrous guides would go with them to the very end of their journey. That they would face down Humbaba's seven deadly auras behind their might. Now without giant serpents or living flame to guard them, while Humbaba of terrible fame grew closer, fear was dousing the flames in their hearts. They whispered, "Enlil himself has made Humbaba ruler of the great cedar forest. Is it right that we go there to cut down the trees that Enlil wants protected? Humbaba is blessed by the gods."

Gilgamesh laughed at these fears. He said, "Utu himself set us on this journey. He gave us guides to mark our way, but we of Uruk will defeat the terrible Humbaba and make this way passable for all civilized sons and daughters. Have no fear. I have a plan for how to deal with Humbaba." 

As he said this, Enkidu had a thorny weed thought that it was not Utu who had set them on this adventure, but Gilgamesh. He pulled the weed, but the barbs puffed at the flesh of his thoughts. Salved as always by Gilgamesh's attention.

Not that Gilgamesh was without night terrors. He woke up in Enkidu's arms weeping and shaking with horrifying dreams that he shared in faint outlines and quiet whispers. Pouring them into Enkidu's safe keeping. Even as Enkidu kissed away tears and traded love for fear in the embraces of the night.

When they reached the sixth mountain, Enkidu noticed Ma-tur shaking even though she was sitting by the fire. He sat down next to her. "Even your brother wakes up with night terrors. Humbaba has seven deadly auras given to him from the god Enlil. It's no sin to feel their weight." She reacted as if he'd implied she was a bastard and a cowardly one at that. He said, "It's out of love for your brother than I'm telling you this." He didn't say that there was no love lost between them. He didn't need to.

So they came to the final mountain. The lion-eagle spread its wings and roared to open the final pass. White snowy mountains opened a way into the vast green cedar forest of trees taller than any building. Dense and dark. Closing around them as they came down the pass and into the hold of the forest. Nothing like the open spaces of the river valley they'd left behind. More than that, the forest shook with the breath of the gods. Their glory glowed in every mote of dust that tumbled from the fragrant branches. 

The sons of Uruk babbled in wondering fear. While the priestesses of Ishtar left off speaking of Ishtar's dance of war and love, and grew silent.

"What are we doing here, brother?" asked En-me-barage-si.

"This is a sacred place," said Ma-tur quietly. "We shouldn't be here."

"Nonsense. This is where we will win fame and glory for all time." Gilgamesh slid off his horse and unbuckled his axe. He bent a young cedar tree by the tip and held it under his foot. With a mighty blow, he splintered its young trunk. In three blows, it was cut. He split it in half between his hands and gave a branch to each of his sisters. "We will remake Uruk with this."

Of course, it was then that one of the auras of the great cedar forest were released against them by Humbaba, who though distant could hear when a single tree fell.

The sons and daughters of the city flailed like new born puppies at Gilgamesh's feet. Eyes closed and mewling in sleepy confusion. Perhaps it was the blood of the gods, but Gilgamesh and his sisters resisted the force of the aura. For a moment, before they too fell to the forest floor in a deep sleep. 

Enkidu had been a wildman once. Perhaps the aura thought he was a wildman still. Enkidu slept, but he woke quickly. He looked around at the sleeping sons and daughters of Uruk. He could hear the pounding steps of Humbaba as he made his way to them. He tugged at Gilgamesh. "Wake up. You must wake up. You'll die if you don't wake up." 

He shouted in Gilgamesh's ears until he shuddered like a great bull and stood up. All around them, stunned and shaking, the sons and daughters of Uruk stumbled to their feet. Enkidu said, "It's not too late. We've come to the forest and we can go. Don't make me go back to your mother and tell her that you've died at the hands of Humbaba." Enkidu realized that he was crying. Great sobs that shook him. So wretched, he could feel them even years later. The crack in his heart at the very thought of such a loss.

But Gilgamesh took the three parts of the felled tree and said, "Where one branch will break over my knee, three will not." He plucked at a stray thread on his tunic. "Where one thread can be snapped, fifty threads woven tightly together hold firm. Together," he turned and looked around at all those who had followed him to the great cedar forest, "we can accomplish anything."

The men cheered and the priestesses of Ishtar sang songs of divine praise. Gilgamesh's sisters raised their chins in pride. Gilgamesh turned to En-me-barage-si and asked, "Where is your bridal clothing? Put it on so you can be dressed in your finest for what is to come." He turned to Ma-tur, and asked, "Where is the fine tunic and armor that I had made for you. This is the moment to wear them for glory." His sisters scrambled to put on their finest clothing as if there was a painter there with them to capture the moment and not merely the faults of memory. 

While Enkidu could only listen to the sound of the forest, and warn them, "Humbaba is almost here." 

Humbaba's heralds were the monkeys running through the trees carrying gourds as drums. Then came the great flocks of birds of brilliant plumage singing the raccious song of the forest. Followed then by a swarm of cicadas with their humming wings and feverish fiddling. 

Finally, Humbaba himself of terrible aspect. It seemed he towered over them, while all around his auras swarmed in divine glory. He said, "Who dares come to the great cedar forest that has been given into my care by Enlil himself? You are all young men and women, but you will never again return to the embrace of the city that gave birth to you. The animals of the forest will gnaw on your bones and the birds of the air will peck out what was once your eyes."

Gilgamesh stepped forward. King and brilliant center of Enkidu's heart, he didn't blanch. He knelt and rested his hand on the fragrant needles on the ground. "Great Humbaba. I have come all this way because no one knows where you live. Because you have the great things of the forest, and the gifts of the gods, but you do not have the comforts that a city can bring. That is why I have come. To give these things to you in exchange for your friendship."

Humbaba dug his black claws into the ground and snapped sharp bladed fingers. The monkees and the birds and insects grew silent. "Go on."

Gilgamesh rose and took En-me-barage-si's hand, tugging her forward. He said, "Great Humbaba, if you will give me one of your auras and allow us to thin a few trees so that the others may breathe, I will give you my oldest sister to be your bride. I would like to be your kinsman."

"What!" croaked En-me-barage-si tugging at his hand.

Enkidu said, "Gilgamesh?" and got as a reply a quirk of Gilgamesh's eyebrows and a gesture to stay quiet. 

Humbaba looked down at En-me-barage-si in her bridal garb and said, "Yes, I agree." He handed over one of his auras such that it sank like a leaden stone into the ground." The sons of Uruk set to thinning the trees, while Gilgamesh let go of En-me-barage-si as if she was a falcon to stand shaking next to Humbaba. 

En-me-barage-si stared at Gilgamesh in silent horror. Tears glimmering at the edges of her eyes. 

Ma-tur said, "Brother," but only got that far. He took her hand. He said, "Humbaba, if you will give me another of your auras and allow us to cut more trees, I will give you my little sister to be your concubine. A fit youthful partner for your bed. I want to be twice over your kinsman."

"What!" said Ma-tur. "I…" she trailed off, face grey and set as she looked at Humbaba.

While Enkidu, his belly roiling, could only think that it was his words that had brought the sisters there. He could only think, "Gilgamesh, leave one daughter to her mother."

Humbaba said, "Yes, I agree." He handed over another of his auras to sink dead like a stone at Gilgamesh's feet. The sons of Uruk set to sawing at trees. The smell of sawdust was thick in the air.

But Gilgamesh wasn't done. He said, "Humbaba, you're surrounded by cedar, but I don't smell any fine perfume. If you are going to be a husband and master to my sisters, you need fine things. If you give me one of your auras, I will give you the perfumes such as they make in Uruk." He laid open a pouch from one of the pack mules and it was indeed full of cones of fine perfume melted in wax. 

Humbaba agreed. Just as he agreed to receiving finely tanned leather for shoes for his feet while another aura went dim and more trees were cut down. 

Enkidu couldn't watch. He set to stacking trees while Humbaba traded an aura for lapis lazuli and nir stone set in gold, so Humbaba could match his bride's fine jewels. He trimmed branches while Humbaba traded an aura for flour to be made into fine bread. He lashed them together while Humbaba traded an aura for beer from Uruk. 

"Enkidu, I am lonely without you at my side," said Gilgamesh. Enkidu was the hawk to the wrist then. He turned back to his love and stood next to him. 

Only one aura swirled lonely around Humbaba, who was now less seeming. Smaller. His claws merely the size of large feet in the shape of a bird's foot. His hands merely talons the size of a man's hands. He seemed merely a tall man for all he had a pile of goods and stood a hand or two taller than the weeping sisters and the whispering priestesses of Ishtar.

Gilgamesh said, "Humaba, now that we are kinsman. If you will give me your last aura, I will give you linen cloth woven with the brightest colors so that you can be fitted as a bridegroom this very day." 

Humbaba looked at En-me-barage-si and Ma-tur. He said, "Yes," and his last aura faded to dull stone. As he did so, Gilgamesh moved as if to kiss his cheek, but he moved like a snake. Like a flame, like lightning, and struck Humbaba down. This was the signal. It must be. Enkidu moved to quickly hold Humbaba from behind. They tied Humbaba up while Gilgamesh's sisters rested their faces on each other's shoulders, while on the ground two auras trembled as if to come back to life.

Humbaba bared his teeth at Gilgamesh, then shifting his expression, he wept. He said, "Great Gilgamesh have mercy. I have no father or mother. I was raised in the woods. Let me go and I'll be your slave. I'll serve you in battle." 

Enkidu could see Gilgamesh considering it. He could see his comet fire lover look at Humbaba with consideration. While the two auras traded for his two sisters glimmered as if they were coals in a fire that could yet blaze to life. Enkidu said, "Gilgamesh, if you set him free, you'll never return to your city, or do you mean to be a kinsman to Humbaba after all? You cannot take back what has been offered."

Humbaba spat, "Hateful wretch. I'll feed your body to the vultures for spreading such lies to Gilgamesh. I'll," what he would have said next was cut short. 

In later years, Enkidu wondered if he did what he did out of jealousy. He had seen Gilgamesh considering taking Humbaba as his servant. He wondered if he did it to keep Gilgamesh safe, because Humbaba was no tamed hawk. He wondered if it was because he could see the auras paid for with Gilgamesh's own sisters glowing as the bargain that Gilgamesh had made was reneged. Either way, Enkidu decapitate Hambaba with his axe and the auras dimmed again.

Gilgamesh told the corpse, "Never speak to my Enkidu that way again." He kissed Enkidu. Hands still red with Humbaba's blood. While all around them were the sound of saws cutting trees. The monkeys and the birds and the insects fled. The forest floor was exposed and they could see the great cedar tree of the gods through the stumps.

Enlil himself appeared in all his glory. He looked down at Humbaba. He said, "Why did you do this?" He shook his head and it was all Enkidu could do not to fall to his knees. "You could have broken bread with Humbaba and had cool water. Instead, you've done this." He said, "You paid nothing for the auras and you'll have nothing of them. I give his auras to the fields, to the rivers, to the reeds." He came closer to Gilgamesh, who did not shake in terror, and said in his ear, "I give them to the lions that torment the herds. I give them to the palace intrigue. I give them to the forests," golden light glimmered in his eyes as he looked around him, "my forests." Then he smiled a terrible smile. "The last aura I give to Nungal, who carries out judgements on the wicked after they are dead, and at the end of each life all must go before her." 

Enkidu stepped forward. He said, "I've taken the curse of Humbaba's death on me." He meant it. He wondered in later years if that was why he'd acted as he had.

Enlil simply looked at Enkidu and wordlessly disappeared in a blaze of light. 

Enkidu blinked at the after image. When he looked at Gilgamesh, he was still standing as if stunned. He'd never had such an encounter with a god. He'd been blessed his whole life. Enkidu said quickly, "You're not wicked. The sin is on me. He would have killed you if you'd let him go." He looked at the pile of goods next to Humbaba's body. "He wouldn't have simply traded bread and water for family."

But En-me-barage-si and Ma-tur's set faces made clear they understood what Humbaba would have accepted as trade for wood from the forest.

Enkidu helped the sons of Uruk gather the trees in piles. They lit the pine pitch signal to the slower carts that had followed them on the trail held open by the monstrous guides. Made the far slower way back to the city of Uruk with their prize of cedar. 

It was at the first pass that En-me-barage-si quietly told him, "Thank you." She raised her chin. "That was not the husband I would have wanted. I may now know what my brother thinks of me, but," she sighed, "I can wish for a human husband."

It was at the sixth pass that Ma-tur pulled her horse next to his and said, "I don't know if you're cursed because of what you did, but thanks." Then she muttered, "Concubine to a giant who'd trade his responsibility for brides." Spat on the ground after she said it.

As they went, the monstrous guides didn't close the passes behind them, but rather melted into the mountains. Fire. Lightning. Stone. Enkidu marveled, but Gilgamesh laughed and kissed him. "Of course, this is the glory of Utu. Once a way is opened, it stays that way."

Enkidu thought about that as they rode down into the city of Uruk, but decided it was outside of his experience to weigh such things. He was just a wildman. He was no hero king with the blood of the gods in his veins. 

As they arrived, the city rejoiced to see them. Dancing men and painted women threw flowers and there was a festival that went on long into the night. 

While Enkidu, he was dizzy with love. Head spinning at all the revelry as Gilgamesh put a flower crown on his head. Yet the specters at the feast were Gilgamesh's mother and sisters. 

When Gilgamesh tried to speak to En-me-barage-si, she said, "My lord will do as he wills. I understand that now."

When he tried to speak with Ma-tur, she said, "You could have told me what you planned to do."

While Ninsun, she greeted them sadly and said, "There is a curse on you both of you now, because of what you've done." She shook her head. "I will try to intercede with Enlil, but I don't know if it will be enough." In a flash of light, she was gone.

Which left only the revelry. The celebration. The small start at reinforcing the walls with the mountain of cedar they'd brought back to the city. The streets smelled of it. 

Into that revelry was the festival of the twins. Utu and Ishtar. They came when Gilgamesh called them. When he showed them the cedar that would be used to expand their temples for their greater glory.

Gilgamesh couldn't have been more beautiful and with such shining purpose as in that moment. 

Enkidu's heart clenched when Ishtar saw it too. When she stepped down from her throne with a great sweep of her wide wings and said, "You are a fit companion for a queen of the heavens. I will take you as my consort." She extolled all the goods Gilgamesh would have. Demons to do his bidding. Divine chariots. Gold and precious goods. How he'd sit at her feet and be elevated into the heavens. 

Enkidu's first thought was, "No. I want more time." His second was, "Do it. You'll be safe from Enlil's curse with Ishtar as your protector."

But Gilgamesh was who he was. So sure and certain of himself. He rejected the goddess in no soft terms, but scornfully, until she flew away red with rage. 

Ishtar who used lightning as a pick for her teeth. Ishtar for whom war was a dance. Ishtar who could whirl as a finger of wind across the desert scathing all in her path. 

Enkidu heard En-me-barage-si say to Ma-tur, "I would have laid down with the giant if it had been my duty. As I will accept the husband Gilgamesh gives me to." Then she said in a bitter sage tone, "Clearly without any consultation."

Ma-tur said equally bitterly, "As I would have, and will. Though I swear I will not lay down after." From her expression Enkidu thought that Humbaba might have found himself knifed soon after he lay with her. "But our brother is too precious for that."

Precious to Enkidu. He had Enkidu's heart in his hands that night as they made fierce love as if to climb the great cedar tree of heaven with desire. 

But the morning came and with it the bellow of the Great Bull of Heaven to deliver Ishtar's revenge. Its hooves struck the ground, and with a strike fifty sons of Uruk fell into a chasm. Another strike had fifty daughters also taken into the earth.

Gilgamesh and Enkidu went out into the fields to fight the Great Bull. Enkidu made for the head, but Gilgamesh said, "No, I am taller. A wild bull is my crest." He took the bull by the horns and lifted. Enkidu took the hind legs and lifted. Between them they trapped the Great Bull. Gilgamesh inexorably bent the bull's head to its chest until with a snap the creature died.

There was a scratch on Gilgamesh's chest from the horn of the bull. It was nothing. It should have been nothing. But sickness came on fast. 

Gilgamesh thrashed in his bed. Their bed. Growing weaker and weaker. He dreamed of the House of Dust. He dreamed of the judgement of the gods. He made Enkidu swear to give gold for the glory of Utu. Lapis Lazuli to the glory of Ishtar. Alms for the glory of Nungal. All in Gilgamesh's name. That certain offerings must be made to the other gods. To Enlil. All so the gods would judge Gilgamesh kindly in the afterlife.

Through it all, Enkidu agreed, wondering how he could do any of those things. He, a wildman, who shared the king's bed. But he agreed. He'd crawl through the underworld to see these things done. There was nothing in this life that meant more than his love for Gilgamesh.

Through it all, Enkidu thought, "It should have been me." Wept when the last breath rattled from his love's body. As all love and warmth left the world. 

As En-me-barage-si came in with the servants and commanded that Gilgamesh's body be prepared for his funeral. The river was diverted, as befit a king, and Gilgamesh's body was laid down in his tomb under the water, which roared in a flood when the river was released to flow over him. 

Enkidu, with no better idea for how to go on, went to the top of the city's great ziggurat. He thought perhaps to throw himself off, but instead he watched the sun ride across the sky. He asked Utu, "Why didn't you stop your sister? Why didn't you save him?" But he wasn't Gilgamesh and Utu didn't answer. The sun set and the stars came out. 

When he saw Ishtar's star in the sky, he asked, "Was any of what Gilgamesh said untrue? Unkindly said yes, but was any of it a lie?" If he hoped for lightning to strike him down, his desire was unmet. Nothing happened. 

So he sat at vigil through the long night. Listening to the river flowing over his heart's grave. Eyes bleary with lack of sleep. He blinked at the sight of a bright star shooting across the sky. Sudden. Brief. Then gone. He fell into a light uneasy sleep. 

He dreamed of Gilgamesh as he'd been. He dreamed of Gilgamesh, covered in mud and dripping with water, pressed his lips to Enkidu's cheek and said, "Remember your promises to me."

But when Enkidu woke, he was alone, and the night was cold. The morning far away. 


	2. After the Comet Has Passed

A servant came to fetch him at his lonely vigil on the top of the ziggurat. Dry mouthed and sun scorched, he was led to a small room in the palace below with a view of the city. 

In that room, En-me-barage-si and Ma-tur glared at a map of the river valley. There were figures carved out of precious stone placed on the map. 

Enkidu had been thinking on what he must do next. He blurted out, "Have you summoned me to gather the materials for Gilgamesh's bequest? So that he can rest. So that the gods will give him pity in the land of the dead."

"What? No, that's not why," said Ma-tur in a withering tone.

En-me-barage-si said, "Ma-tur. Remember what we talked about." She offered Enkidu a cup of cool water, which he accepted. She offered him a cloth to wipe the ashes from his hair, which he rejected.

Ma-tur grumbled. "Oh, this is hard."

"But necessary," said En-me-barage-si. She turned to Enkidu. "My sister and I, Uruk, have a proposal for you."

Enkidu couldn't think what it could be if it was not to quest for grave goods to add to Gilgamesh's tomb in the river. He waited patiently, as he once had while hunting lions. 

"I propose that you marry me," said En-me-barage-si.

"While I," Ma-tur's lips twisted, "am to be your concubine."

This left him stunned for some moments. "Have you spoken with your mother?" asked Enkidu cautiously, looking around the room. But no alcove appeared hiding a glowing goddess.

"She left and hasn't come back. I guess she's," Ma-tar glared at the map, "decided to ascend back to the realm of the gods now that her husband and precious son are dead." 

"She went to entreat the gods to hold off Gilgamesh's judgement." En-me-barage-si said quickly.    
"She has gone to speak on Uruk's behalf so no further plagues fall on us." She looked at Enkidu, "I'm sure she knows you're going to gather all that Gilgamesh needs to enter the house of dust in good standing."

"I… I would. I will!" said Enkidu, flexing his hands helplessly. 

"Then marry me," said En-me-barage-si calmly. "Become the king of Uruk. Take power. Send soldiers off to find what's needed. Be the strong king Uruk needs."

"But why? Why both of you? Why?"

En-me-barage-si sighed. "We've done this badly. Out of order." She beckoned for Enkidu to come closer. "This is the valley of the great rivers. Here is Uruk near the end of the valley close to the sea." She tapped the figure of a tower of lapis lazuli next to a line painted in blue. "Our fields are wide and flat, and our soil is rich from the river. And now we sit at the base of a series of passes that lead to the great cedar forest. This makes Uruk a prize to be taken. Our neighbors up river: Aratta, Nippur, Kish. They want what we have." She smiled sadly. "Now it seems we have become the guardians of the forest as Humbaba once was." 

"Word is already spreading that Gilgamesh is dead and that the Uruk has no king," said Ma-tur quickly. "Their armies will come soon. They will sack the city and divide what they take. Head over the mountains to cut down the wealth of trees there."

"But that forest is now cursed. But Gilgamesh's funeral was just yesterday," protested Enkidu.

"It may already be too late," said En-me-barage-si. "We need to follow word of the funeral with joyous news of a wedding to a hero. One capable of defending Uruk and the people who live in it."

"But, I'm just a wildman," said Enkidu. His tone was low. Broken and jagged as shattered pottery. "I don't know my own parents. While you are two parts god."

"You were created by the gods themselves," said En-me-barage-si grimly. "Or so the story will say. You went on a quest with Gilgamesh. Between the two of you, you defeated the giant. Defeated the great bull of heaven."

"It wasn't just us alone. You were there," said Enkidu. "There were fifty sons of Uruk. Carts. Priestesses."

"But what makes a better story?" asked En-me-barage-si implacably. "Our mother has already declared you her son." There was a touch of sorrow as she said that. Then somewhat contradictory, she said, "Marry me."

"Don't forget the concubine part. I know I won't," said Ma-tur shifting Uruk's tower on the table.

"But…. I… why Ma-tur?" Enkidu felt as if he must be a bird, trilling the same melody over and over.

"Because," said Ma-tur, dropping each word like a stone, "if I marry in or outside of Uruk, then my husband will have a claim to the throne, and Uruk is a rich prize." She looked at her hands. "If my brother lived and I married, I would have done everything to convince my," her lips were firm and fierce, "master to seize the throne of Uruk after what Gilgamesh did."

"But, he was your brother. You love him." Enkidu knew it was true. He'd seen Ma-tur with her brother at court. On the journey to the cedar forest.

"My brother made a bonfire of my love when he did not even consult with me about his plan for Humbaba. When he made me complicit in a trick." Ma-tur glared at the figure of a Kishian horse in silver. "That's what I cannot forgive. To not even ask. No."

"But," Enkidu trailed off. He had nothing to say.

"And," continued Ma-tur, "as your," her lips curled further, "concubine I will have an understood place. I will be free to move about the city. Direct the work on those city walls, which like everything else Gilgamesh did are half done, because he kept moving on to something new. Someone new." Her tone was sharp as a well whetted knife.

It couldn't slice him. Gilgamesh was gone to the grave.

En-me-barage-si said, "Enough, Ma-tur." She licked dry lips. "We cannot afford to divide claims to the throne." En-me-barage-si put her hand over Ma-tur's. "We have discussed it. Now, what do you say?"

Enkidu felt helpless. Small. A tumbling bit of grass on a wide plain. "You will allow me to gather Gilgamesh's offerings if I do this?"

"You will be the king, and can command what you want," said En-me-barage-si coming around the table. "But," she held up a finger. "This marriage must be real in all ways." At his blanch, she said, "After the stories the harimatu told about how you rutted with her for seven days, this cannot be foreign to you."

He flushed bright red. Mumbled to the tile floors. "I will do it." It was all he had left to do. To provide a shepherd who would watch over Uruk as Gilgamesh would have done. To honor his memory. To give him peace in the next world.

But still, he prayed on it for a day and into the night. He dreamed that Gilgamesh came to him sweating and grey as he had when he lay dying. Gilgamesh said, "Remember your promise to me." When he woke, Enkidu was alone on the top of the ziggurat and Utu was rising in the east.

So he was married to En-me-barage-si before all the city. Ma-tur was formally declared to be Enkidu's concubine, first before all the rest. Enkidu remembered it vividly years later. The feeling of En-me-barage-si's soft hand on his right arm. Ma-tur's calloused one on his left. The stiff new clothing all over embroidered with new yarn. The hard crown on his head. The people of Uruk throwing flower petals and dancing in the streets as if their king had not just died, and they had poured ashes in their hair in mourning. 

Messengers were sent immediately to proclaim the good news. Enkidu followed En-me-barage-si to her rooms quietly while the priestesses of Ishtar anointed the bed with perfume. Ma-tur leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Give her the kind of good time you gave the harimatu, or I'll put a knife through your belly so you die slow."

With those encouraging words, they were left alone. Enkidu and his wife. He sat down next to her on the soft bed full of sweet grass. It was soft and perfumed as his bed with Gilgamesh had been. There in the queen's bed on his wedding night, Enkidu broke down into wretched tears for the king who was no more. 

En-me-barage-si, who had been stiff with him, unbent. She placed her arm around him and began to speak softly about her brother. Not as Enkidu had known him, but as he had been as a small child, then as a youth. 

It was as if some cork had been removed from En-me-barage-si, because she also cried. She cried for her baby brother that her mother had placed in her arms. She cried for the little boy, who'd been spoiled as the longed for prince of the city. She cried for the youth, who'd moved restless as a bull in a building from room to room. Always going out of the city on adventures. They cried together for the king who would never have a chance to settle down into being the shepherd to his people.

Enkidu found a truth then. There was an attractive quality that came from a shared grief. It bound not like laughter, but it's binding was true. 

So they lay together in that bed weeping. Then they lay together exhausted, tangled up in each other. 

Of course, Enkidu dreamed that night of Gilgamesh, his body covered in ash and plucked feathers as he served as a slave in the house of dust. Gilgamesh cried out to Enkidu to do as he'd promised. Enkidu woke with an ache in his heart.

He woke in bed with En-me-barage-si, whose eyes were red with grief. Who rushed around the room splashing water on her face, worried about what everyone would think about her. A failure. She, who had been five when her little brother was born, and had gone from heir to the throne to pawn to be traded to another king. She, who had been offered to this or that king, but there was always something wanting. She, who had married and was as untouched as the moon. She, who was so hard hearted that she'd forced her brother's lover to marry her not days after his burial, and who would do such a thing. As she spoke in grief, Enkidu understood that what he had taken for pride was as if a thin set of branches that lay as a cover over the pit-trap of fear. 

There alone in her room, Enkidu comforted her.

Grief may bind as well as laughter. 

So as tears dried, they turned to each other. Enkidu kissed her with a kiss of peace. Then one of compassion. Then desire. When she laid her own hands around his back, he returned the favor. It was tentative at times where Gilgamesh had been… Enkidu made himself set that thought aside. It was what it was. Delicate and fragile, but the actions of two people who were alive.

When the servants came, En-me-barage-si was smiling and her hair in a disarray that had but one cause. While Enkidu's thoughts were a jumble. 

He sent servants to gather lapis lazuli for the temple of Ishtar. He ordered soldiers to bring back gold and copper for the temple of Utu. He ordered alms given to the poor and needy in Gilgamesh's name to satisfy Nungal when she judged Gilgamesh. He had treasures sent to the temples of each of the gods, especially Enlil. It didn't seem enough.

The dreams still tumbled night after night. As did the grief, which came in fits and starts. But it was as if a wall had tumbled down with En-me-barage-si. She smiled at him softly when he came to the queen's rooms. He was hungry for stories about Gilgamesh. She was full of many. Of her own battered dreams. So, in grief, they found their way into each other's arms.

The alternative was to sleep in the king's chambers. Where he'd last lain with Gilgamesh as he lay dying. Sometimes he lay prostrate on the top of the ziggurat. 

As to his days, they were empty of purpose. He knew nothing of building a city wall. Fortunately, En-me-barage-si knew what to do. "Of course, I don't know how to build a wall. That's why we hire those who do. Our role is to pay them."

"And see they don't sleep when they should be working," said Ma-tur. She frowned. "Also, our soldiers could use more training. Gilgamesh was always chasing off, and their chariot work has gotten sloppy, and don't get me started on the foot soldiers."

"I don't know anything about that," said Enkidu helplessly. 

"Of course not, but you have what I don't," Ma-tur looked down at his groin, which had Enkidu feeling as if he should put his hands in front of his most fragile parts. Instead he called in the commanders of Uruk's soldiers and explained that Ma-tur would deliver directions from him for what was to be done. 

When the man protested, Enkidu said, "I said, my concubine speaks with my voice," and stood up. He wasn't as tall as Gilgamesh, but he was no light weight, and the man glancing to the crown on Enkidu's head bowed his head in obedience. 

When he left, En-me-barage-se said, "Sister, speaking of being Enkidu's concubine." 

"No, I am not speaking about that with you," said Ma-tur firmly. She glared at Enkidu. "Nor with you. This is a concubineship of name only." She put her hands on her belt as if daring him to disagree, but this hadn't been his idea. 

"Fine," said En-me-barage-si. "Your loss. But try to at least go in and out of the king's rooms a few times." Then she smiled softly at Enkidu. "I wouldn't mind if you visited me in my chambers." She put her hand on his arm. "We wouldn't want there to be rumors that there is unhappiness in the royal house of Uruk. That you sleep on the top of the ziggurat out of," she trailed off. But he understood her fear.

The thought of going to the queen's chambers was pleasant and a little sad, as if he were saying goodbye to Gilgamesh again in an act of desire with no tears to preface it.

But he followed her to her rooms and they did the deeds that made Ishtar glad. It was fragile. Delicate. Nothing like with Gilgamesh. Not lusty as with Shamat the harimatu. But it was a living act. The sort of thing that binds as well as shared grief.

But still he dreamed of Gilgamesh. But still Enkidu was rootless. He didn't know how to run a city. When it was time to listen to disputes, he didn't know what to say. He knew nothing of the law. He'd look at En-me-barage-si until she patted his arm and said, "What I think your majesty means to rule is," and then answered the dispute. He'd mumble his agreement and that was that.

No amount of linen or a crown could make him anything other than what he was. A wildman from the wild places drawn into the work of kings. But when a shepherd came complaining that lions were tormenting his flocks, that was something he understood. An aura that he had cursed on the people. His responsibility.

"You're a king," said En-me-barage-si. "You can't run around the hills fighting lions." She pleated her hands, and Enkidu knew that she was thinking of past griefs.

Ma-tur said firmly. "Hero king and all that. He could go. A short ways." 

"It's something I'm good at," said Enkidu quietly. Desperately. Exhaustedly. It was something he'd done before he'd met Gilgamesh. It was from before. It was from wide open spaces where there were no buildings. He knew he'd made a promise to En-me-barage-si, and yet, he needed the wind in his face.

"He should go," said Ma-tur stolidly. He wouldn't have expected any support from her.

"Fine," said En-me-barage-si sharply. "But when I summon you, then you must come back." 

He agreed. He went into the hills. Hunted lions that attacked the herds of Uruk on the hillsides. Sent the pelts back to Uruk to soften the hard floors. Helped shepherds build wells. Cleared the river road of some bandits, who thought caravans from Uruk were their spoils. 

He found a sort of balance in simple small acts. It wasn't the great deeds he'd imagined with Gilgamesh, but it was good. Everyone he met asked him about Gilgamesh. About the battle with Humbaba. About the Great Bull of Heaven. He always answered. He was always happy to speak of his king. His master. His love. Expanded on what had happened. Improved on it too. Perhaps it was Enkidu's fault then that everyone thought it had just been the two of them crossing the seven mountain range. Perhaps not.

Yet strangely, his dreams of Gilgamesh eased. Became less dreams of loss and more of quiet joy. More love found and less love lost. As if telling the stories that would expand Gilgamesh's legend eased him in the afterlife. Enkidu prayed that these were true dreams, but he was no Gilgamesh and no god came to tell him either way.

He lingered in the wild until a messenger came for him sweating and red cheeked from running. "Your Majesty, you need to return to Uruk at once."

Heart pounding, he ran all the way back. He'd gone farther than he'd thought. But when he arrived, the city gates were open. The market was full of laughing people. They threw flowers at him as he went by. "Congratulations. Blessings of Ishtar." 

There were children wearing linen crafted to look like lion pelts, and wearing masks to look like lions. He ran past them all the way to the palace.

Ma-tur greeted him at the wide great door. "About time."

"What is it? What has happened?"

She scowled at him. "Congratulations. You're a father." Then almost grudgingly, "Good work clearing out those bandits." But he could hardly hear her over the jolt of his heart. He went to the queen's chambers and found En-me-barage-si sitting up on her bed suckling an infant with his downy black hair and her nose.

She said almost defensively, "Nani is a girl, but there's time for a boy yet."

"A girl," he peered at the little slip of life. "But how?"

"How did it happen?" said En-me-barage-si sharply. "The normal way." 

He sat down beside her in the bed. "You knew before I left."

"Yes," said En-me-barage-si with a lift of that proud chin. The sign of fear that lay below.

"Thank you," said Enkidu. He meant thank you for giving him time to grieve. He meant thank you for bearing this burden. He meant thank you for bringing such a life into this world. "Hello," said Enkidu to Nani. Enkidu who had been raised by gazelle and wild cattle. Who had no mother or father. "Hello, Nani." 

So that was his life. He went out of the city walls, wide and tall with cedar. But he returned each night. He held his daughter. He and En-me-barage-si did the deeds that might make another child. That reminded them that they were alive. They spoke of the little things that might make Uruk more secure. They spoke about what it would take to be a shepherd for the people.

Ma-tur at the feast table, freshly bathed from her sweat at training the troops, could always be depended on to drop a wry remark that startled a laugh from Enkidu like a flock of birds from the reeds. 

But one day, a traveler came to the city of Uruk. He spoke of Gilgamesh the great king and his legend. He spoke of Utnapishtim, who survived the great flood and was given a magic herb by the gods. It granted eternal life. Could even bring dust to life to live again as a man. He asked for gold in exchange for such a story and got it.

Enkidu felt his heart beating hard in his chest. Like monkeys pounding on gourd drums. He should want to go find the herb. He should do this thing to rescue Gilgamesh from the house of the dead.

En-me-barage-si turned her face away from him. He knew she knew what his first thought had been. She cooed to Nani and would not look at him. She turned away from him when he held out his arms to hold their child.

Ma-tur pulled him aside and told him fiercely, "She won't say it, but I will. You can't go. It would ruin everything. It's one thing to hero around the hills above Uruk, but to cross into the next world, we might as well not have a king and for what? To bring back Gilgamesh?"

"Are you still so angry with Gilgamesh?" asked Enkidu. He didn't want Ma-tur to be angry with Gilgamesh, who would always be in Enkidu's heart.

"Uh, yeah. Forever," said Ma-tur with raised eyebrows. "He made armor for me whose purpose was to make me a tasty dish, while claiming the opposite. He handed me over to be a concubine to a faithless giant."

"But, he didn't," protested Enkidu. Weakly in the face of Ma-tur's stone face.

"If you go, neither of us will ever forgive you," said Ma-tur crossing her arms. "And Nani will grow up without a father." 

Which was one thing. 

The other was he dreamed of Gilgamesh full of fire and ambition to find the herb. To live forever. He woke knowing that Gilgamesh would have gone to find this herb if he had been the one to live. He woke wondering if Gilgamesh would have sought out an herb that would have meant they'd remain apart forever.

He looked out over the city at the strong city walls and knew that Gilgamesh had had a restless heart and left many things undone. He also knew that the price of a cut umbilical cord was to die. That one day, one way or another, he would see Gilgamesh again. That his life was a candle, not a bonfire, but one that was easy to hold onto. And yet, how much more glorious this life would be if Gilgamesh could be returned to live in it.

There was no decision that could be made for a messenger arrived from King Aga of Kish demanding that Uruk pay tribute of one man per household to build wells on the road to the great cedar forest for King Aga's convenience when harvesting cedar there. 

Enkidu could only think what Gilgamesh would have done, so he did it. Broke the tablet on which that demand was written to return to King Aga. Once he'd done it, he paused in worry. He said, "Do you think King Aga would accept a challenge for one to one combat?"

Ma-tur snorted. "No."

En-me-barage-si raised her chin and wouldn't look at Enkidu. Still. Holding herself apart. Bracing herself for when he left. She told the middle space between them. "The king will need to lead our army into battle."

Ma-tur scowled, "Enkidu doesn't know the first thing about warcraft."

"But, Ma-tur, you do," said Enkidu suddenly. He knew it in his bones. "You are the one to ensure that our chariots train together. That the cavalry does," he made a motion to indicate the intricate maneuver where the horses danced and the soldiers jabbed with spears, "the thing. That… you know what needs to be done."

"But I am a woman, and cannot go into battle," said Ma-tur through grit teeth."

"You are my," Enkidu spread his hands wide as he shrugged, "concubine and can accompany me when I go."

En-me-barage-si dandled Nani. Sighed. "Enkidu's right. You should both go." Then looking at Enkidu for the first time in days, she pursed her lips, "You will need new armor."

"I have the armor Gilgamesh made me when we went to face Humbamba," said Enkidu. He hadn't worn it since not wanting it to get dirty. Wanting it to look exactly as it had when Gilgamesh dressed him in it.

"That armor is for the follower of a king. It's mostly leather and has little metal in it. It's marked with Gilgamesh's crest and not yours. It's not what would befit a king," said En-me-barage-si firmly while cradling their child. "You should be dressed like what you are. A hero king." So it was. En-me-barage-si had new armor made that gleamed with bronze and touches of gold. That was stamped with the mark of a lion. His royal crest. 

"It is good," said Ma-tur. She pulled back her cloak to show her own breast plate stamped with the image of a lioness. It was not the armor that Gilgamesh had made her. The front was flat like a mans. It was new, but battered from practice. She walked away without saying anything more.

Of course, they rode together at the head of the army, so it was not as if they weren't in each other's company. Ever prickly, Ma-tur appeared to ease when it became clear he wouldn't contradict her on the road. As it was, the amount of work involved for an army to travel was baffling to him. Carts full of food to feed the troops. Hay for the horses. Carpenters to maintain the chariots. He only knew how to travel on his own feet. Eating what was there.

"We'd destroy the countryside like locusts if we did that," said Ma-tur looking out over the dusty plain.

Then there were the long boards that Ma-tur ordered that could be placed behind some draft horses. He looked at them. "What are those for?" 

She grinned. A rare expression from her, and it made her handsome in a way entirely unlike her sister. But not unlike her brother. "This is to convince Kish that our cavalry is marching like idiots along the easy river road." 

"Why aren't we?" There was very little that Enkidu understood about the waging of war. Much as there was little he understood about the administration of a city.

"Because King Aga will go to the high ground and charge into what they think is our army by the river."

"And why are we going into the hills?" Enkidu had been to the battle planning, but Ma-tur had done all the directing. He was there and yet not there. A part of her plans, but not included in making them. "I didn't want to interrupt you in front of the commanders. You understand these things and I do not, but I still would like to know what you're planning." He looked her in the eyes. "I want to be included in your plans, as I would include you in mine."

She nodded sharply. "We will take the higher ground and wait until their attack. That's when they will be at their most chaotic. While they are confused wondering where our army is. When it is hard for King Aga to direct his men. Then we will charge them and drive them into the river so that their chariots are useless."

They split the army into three parts. The supplies were fortified in a rocky outcropping in the high hills. The draft horses were sent to kick up dust on the river road. The greater part of the army moved by moonlight hide in the high ground. 

Four parts. After discussing with Ma-tur, Enkidu went by himself higher yet into the hills until he found what he was looking for. Wild cattle. He played the role of the lion and drove them down hill to where the battle was to be. 

As Ma-tur had predicted, King Aga led his chariots in a charge at the draft horses with their boards kicking up dust. Milled around in confusion as the few troops left with them dove into the river and away. Milled further as some two hundred frightened cattle poured out of the hills and hit the army of Kish like an avalanche of horns and hooves. 

Chariots were overturned. Cavalry divided from the foot soldiers. It was then that Ma-tur led the attack herself. She rode in the lead chariot as it cut through the Kish foot soldiers, leading to further chaos. Not that the soldiers of Kish didn't fight. King Aga had committed the greater number of the men in his city to this attack. If he lost, then his own city would be defenseless.

Ma-tur's chariot lost a wheel from an unfortunate spear tossed by King Aga himself. Fortunate in that it hit the wheel and she jumped free.

Enkidu fought his way through the battle towards her. They did as he'd imagined doing with Gilgamesh. Fought side by side on the battlefield. She had a better idea for how to use her sword. But it didn't take much for Enkidu to know how to swing his axe. 

Soon enough, they found themselves on a hillock overlooking the river bank where the army of Kish was in scattered retreat with the chariots of Uruk circling to capture their supplies. They could see King Aga racing away with his army left behind.

Enkidu looked at Ma-tur's laughing face, grimed with the sweat and grit of battle, and said, "We won. You did it. That was… when you… and…" 

She grabbed the front of his breastplate and they kissed. Life hungry on the edge of death. As they had given glory to Ishtar with her dance of battle, now they gave glory with the brush of bodies. Shedding armor and weapons. Lay down in the dry grass and grappled. Not lovingly, but with nails scraping skin until where there had been no battle wounds now there were long red scrapes. Pulling at hair dusty with the dirt now made no less filthy by rolling in the grass until Ma-tar lay above him. She took him like a captive. Like a conqueror and he the willing city enjoying the conquest. At being alive under the bright sun and the cool wind blowing down out of the hills. 

Of course, in spending himself and being spent, he sat up and looked down at the battlefield and saw the dead. The dying. The loss. He looked at Ma-tur, who had wanted none of him. He said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

She punched him in the shoulder. "Well, I am your concubine." 

"I think," he shook dirt out of his hair, "that we can agree that I am your concubine." Again he looked at the battlefield and thought of death. His sorrow would always be a part of him, as would his dreams of Gilgamesh. His longing to be rejoined. "As I was your brother's and," it was a moment for truth, "always will be."

She wrapped her arm around him and squeezed. "I'm sorry I was so unkind to you. Have been unkind." She kissed his cheek. "Come on. Let's see to our soldiers and then I think," she tossed her tunic over her head and set to lacing her boots, "I'd like to do that again, but slower and," she wrinkled her nose at him, "with less dirt."

So, it was. They gathered their prisoners for ransom and King Aga's good behavior, saw to the wounded, gave honor to the dead, and together they gave honor to Ishtar in a way she likes, if in a way unlikely to generate a child.

When finally they rode back through the gates of Uruk, and En-me-barage-si welcomed them with servants with bowls of cool water thick with flowers, she looked at their sheepish faces and said, "Finally." 

Ma-tur did not have a child of that battle for the nature of their coupling was not such to create a child, nor the way they were together later. But when En-me-barage-si had a son from the activities of the winter that followed, Ma-tur told Enkidu, "I discussed it with En-me-barage-si. You can go after that herb if you want. The one you think will bring Gilgamesh back from the dust. If that's what you want. I know you love him and because it would make you happy, I'll let go of the anger that's in my heart." She looked at him steadily. Fiercely. Like a fire in a hearth that might hiss when fat falls into the flame. 

He looked at his son, who he would like to name Gilgamesh if En-me-barage-si and Ma-tur would let him. A miracle of life that was blinking at him. That was blowing spit bubbles at him, at his daughter who was running in circles around the center of the room, a miracle of motion. At En-me-barage-si who was speaking with ministers about grain and taxes, and wall maintenance, and pretending not to know what Ma-tur was talking with him about.

He knew that he would never go on that journey. "No, it is not time for me to see Gilgamesh again." What he had was not wild and passionate and all consuming, and they'd yet to declare anything so simple as feelings, but it was full of the deeds of the living. He would see Gilgamesh one day in the house of dust.

So he played at being a lion with Nani there in the great hall of Uruk and did not go down that road.

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this story, I've drawn from details from the fragments of the Sumerian version of the Gilgamesh story. Thus, I didn't make up the sisters, but it's not like there's a lot of detail other than birth order, their names, and they exist. Though one does (as I did) wonder how they took Gilgamesh offering them up to horrifying Humbaba.  
> http://factsanddetails.com/world/cat56/sub363/entry-6402.html
> 
> I relied on the more cohesive (and well known) Akkadian for overall structure.  
> http://www.ancienttexts.org/library/mesopotamian/gilgamesh
> 
> Details of Humbaba's retinue of monkeys, birds, and insects and the aftermath of Humbaba's death are from the relatively recently discovered fragment filling in details of tablet V of the Akkadian version.  
> https://etc.ancient.eu/exhibitions/giglamesh-enkidu-humbaba-cedar-forest-newest-discovered-tablet-v-epic/


End file.
